Secret Shame: Public Humiliation
by Still-Unique
Summary: Lucas's worst fears come true. Please read warnings. This is a repost under a new name.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Notes: This story comes some months (maybe even up to a year) after Secret Shame: Hidden Actions. In this story, both Kristin and Nathan are aware of Lucas's battle with self-injury. Perhaps someday I'll tell you about how that turn of events came about. Please read the additional notes at the end of part two.

Warnings: Like the previous story, this fic deals with some very heavy issues. Some of the events or descriptions may be triggering so I urge you to use caution while reading this story. Please do not read this if you are not safe.

Secret Shame: Public Humiliation

Lucas stared at the wall trying not to cry. The doctor had refused to numb his arm before stitching the wound so Lucas winced at the less than gentle ministrations. 'I will not cry. I will not cry,' he repeated silently as he struggled futilely to ignore the doctor.

"I work long hours trying to help people and I get called away from my break to stitch up some kid that cut himself! You ought to be ashamed of yourself for wasting our time like this. What if someone else doesn't get treatment because of your selfish behavior? Did you think about that? I don't have time to be babying a head case."

The last words were the final straw and tears began to pour down Lucas's cheeks. "I'm sorry," he mumbled through a hiccup. "I didn't mean to cut so deep. I didn't mean to be a bother. I'm sorry." 

The doctor merely looked disgusted and finished up the stitching without a word. "There it is done. Don't go anywhere. Psych's on the way down," said the doctor with a cruel smile. Even if Lucas had not been a genius, he would have had no trouble figuring out that the doctor thought he deserved to be committed. 

Not for the first time, Lucas wished he had been on SeaQuest when this had happened. Dr. Westphalen would have shaken her head in disappointment and kept him in medbay overnight but she would not have treated him with disgust and he would not have run the risk of being committed. Lucas's thoughts immediately went to his friend, Amy. She had gone to the hospital for pneumonia but had wound up in the psych ward instead when they saw her scars. Why did the doctors do this? He wished every doctor visit wasn't a dangerous gamble with his freedom on the line.

"Lucas Wolenczak?"

"Yes?" Lucas looked up to see a small, brown-headed woman walk into the room. She smiled a fake sympathetic smile and sat down in front of him. 'Why are all shrinks the same?' he thought tiredly.

"Lucas, you don't mind if I call you Lucas do you? Lucas, my name is Dr. Molly Grey. I'm a psychologist here at the hospital." She smiled again and patted him on the knee. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Because I cut myself," he answered quietly. He sat stiffly controlling his revulsion at her touch. He only welcomed contact from certain people and tolerated it from a few others and she fell under neither category. 

"Uh-huh, and why did you cut yourself?"

"Because it helps. It makes me feel better." He read the expression on her face and added, "You can't understand unless you've been there."

"Does your father know?"

"Yes and my mother too."

"And what is their response?"

"They don't like to talk about it."

"Are you suicidal?"

"This was not a suicide attempt!" She scribbled something down on the pad she carried.

"Was this a plea for help?"

"No!" Abruptly he lost his temper and got up to pace around the room. "Look, lady, I don't know what you're deal is. I find it very hard to believe that a woman in your area of work has never come across a cutter before so maybe you're just bored and want to turn this into more than it is."

"Lucas, please sit back down. We need to go over these questions."

"I don't want to answer your stupid questions! I'm tired, I'm in pain and I want to go home!"

"You can't just go home. You were brought in with a self-inflicted three-inch cut to your forearm. You need help."

"Where's Captain Bridger? The Captain should be here." Lucas trembled as he fought for control of himself. He felt like everything was spiraling away from him and he could do nothing to stop it.

"I know you're upset. You can see your father as soon as we've answered these questions. Think you can stay calm now?" Lucas nodded feeling embarrassed for his outburst.

"Good now let's start over. I understand that you were not trying to kill yourself but that does not mean you are not suicidal. Are you suicidal, Lucas?"

"No," he started but was unable to meet her eyes. He glanced down at the floor and whispered, "yes. But I'm not going to kill myself."

"Why did you cut yourself?"

"Because it was the safest thing I could do at the time. I didn't mean to go so deep." He focused his eyes on the floor again. "I'm a little out of practice. I didn't want to cut in the first place. But it's better than the alternatives." He shuddered lightly.

"So in the same situation you'd do it again?" He nodded.

"So if we let you go home, you're just going to continue to hurt yourself?"

"Don't keep me here!" he pleaded. "I didn't mean to do it. I'm OK, really! I don't need to stay. Please don't make me stay."

"Lucas," she started, reaching out to brush away his tears.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled shoving her away violently. He wrapped his arms around himself rocking back and forth. Sadly, she stepped back and quietly filled out the remaining portion of her evaluation and recommendation. Completed, she stepped out of the room calling a nurse to sit with the patient.

"How is he?" asked an older gentleman from where he was pacing in the hall.

"Are you Lucas's father?" A sad expression flitted across his face before he answered.

"No, I'm his guardian."

"I'm afraid we have more paperwork we're going to need you to fill out so that we can get him moved upstairs."

"Why? The wound wasn't serious." She paused for a moment to gather her composure.

"His injury is fine. Lucas is not. He needs treatment."

"Well, having him committed isn't going to help him!"

"Sending him home for you to ignore what's happened isn't going to help him either. I can't believe you people would actually encourage them to do something like this."

"Lady," began Bridger barely controlling his temper. "You don't know me and you don't know Lucas. You have no idea what's best for him. He's not staying here."

"It is my professional opinion that Lucas is a danger to himself. You can challenge me in court tomorrow but for now he's staying here." Bridger sputtered for a moment unable to think of a response. She held up a hand to stall him then continued on coldly, "Against my better judgment, I'm going to allow you time to say goodbye to Lucas. You have five minutes."

The minute Bridger stepped into the treatment room Lucas threw his arms around him and began to sob. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeated. "Please don't leave me here."

"I don't have a choice," replied Bridger his voice breaking with pain. "There's nothing I can do to stop them."

"Take me home!" pleaded Lucas. "I won't do it again! I'll be good!"

"Shh, I know you didn't mean to do this. I know you're doing the best that you can. But the doctors, they think you need to stay here for a little while."

"But you told them they were wrong, right?" asked Lucas looking up at Bridger. He could see the trust that Lucas had in him, the belief that he could make everything all better. It broke his heart to have to break that trust.

"I tried, Lucas. They didn't listen. There's nothing I can do right now."

"So you're just going to leave me," mumbled Lucas numbly. His world was crashing down around him. He was going to be locked up here forever and the one person who should have protected him was abandoning him.

"Lucas, listen to me," said Bridger tilting Lucas's chin until they were looking each other in the eye. "I am not just leaving you. We're going to fight this. I just can't do anything about it tonight. You'll be fine here for one night and tomorrow we can start working on getting you out of here. I'm not going to abandon you. I promise." Lucas let himself remain where he was leaning up against the Captain. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes but he made no move to wipe them away just as he made no effort to respond to Bridger's declaration. He was so tired. This was all too much. He couldn't deal with this right now. He thought longingly of the razor blade that was still lying on the stained tile of the hotel bathroom. He shuddered in revulsion horrified at his thoughts. How could he want that now? It was the reason he was in this mess to begin with. He should have known better. He should have tried harder to resist. He shouldn't want to cut himself again. The thoughts were almost enough to make him cry harder but the door opening distracted him.

"Sir, you're going to have to leave now," stated the orderly.

"Already?" asked Bridger with surprise. It seemed as though he had just walked into the room. His five minutes couldn't have passed already.

"It's time for the patient to be escorted upstairs."

"No!" shouted Lucas, the meaning penetrated the haze. "Don't go!" He clung to Bridger, panicked. His worst nightmare was coming true. "Don't go. Don'tgodon'tgodon'tgodon'tgodon'tgo." The orderly stepped out of the room reappearing immediately with a nurse. She took one glance at the hysterical boy and pulled out a syringe. Skillfully, she injected the sedative and waited while it slowly took affect.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," whispered Bridger brushing Lucas's bangs out of his face. "I've got to go now." Lucas did not resist as Bridger slowly slid out from under Lucas. He merely whimpered at the loss of contact. With no emotions in his glazed eyes, he watched as his protector walked out of the door. He was numb and empty, drained beyond his ability to cope. When the orderly helped him off of the bed, he followed him unresistingly. What was the point? Bridger was gone. Why should he fight it? Why should he care? He was so tired. He gave into the drug-induced fog and simply let himself drift.

"This is Nurse White. She's going to show you to you're room," said the orderly once he signed off on the transfer.

"Hello…Lucas," smiled the nurse, pausing to check his chart for his name. His dead eyes tracked her movements but he did not show any sign as to having heard her. 'Suicide attempt,' she thought seeing him rub his bandaged arm as he shuffled after her. Those were always the worst. Some of the nurses called them the zombies. They were more dead than alive. Of course, part of that was the heavy drug regiment.

"Don't look at me," Lucas attempted to say. He hated it when people looked at him like that. He hated the revulsion. He hated the pity. He wanted to tell her to mind her own business. He wanted to tell her not to look at him. But he could not convince his mouth to move so he just followed along behind her silently. For a second, his anger gave him energy and he was able to glance around his surroundings. It looked much like he expected. The décor made the ward look more like a children's floor but the drooping figures scattered through the hall did not seem to be affected by the synthetic cheer. The fires of his anger abruptly died as they stopped outside a closed door.

"This is going to be your room," said the nurse pushing the door open. A cold tendril of fear crept up Lucas's spine and he wished the Captain were here. The room felt like a coffin. The air was thick and heavy with his doom. His breaths came in quick short gasps as his feet moved of their own volition carrying him into the room.

"Hi," said a boy about his age staring curiously at him from the other side of the room. Lucas stared at the boy. His tongue was frozen solid in his mouth. Nothing seemed to be working the way it was supposed to work. Numb fingers clutched convulsively at the hem of his shirt. For a second, Lucas watched the hand. Was it his? The fingers clinched into a fist causing a sharp stab of pain where the muscles pulled at the stitches. His gaze drifted up to the bandage. Yeah, it was his fingers. Lucas snapped his gaze back up to the nurse as she cleared her throat.

"Ricky, this is Lucas. Lucas isn't allowed out of this room yet." She turned her gaze back to Lucas. "You hear that? You just stay right here and someone will be bringing you a change of clothes. Lights out is at nine." Lucas did not know how long he stood there staring at the door before his roommate touched his shoulder gently. Lucas jerked away from the contact.

"Whoa, easy there. Sorry," said Ricky holding his hands up and backing away. Ricky was a very tactile person and he had a hard time remembering that a lot of people here didn't want to be touched.

"It's alright," answered Lucas vaguely embarrassed by his response. He rubbed his arm absently.

"Did it hurt?" asked Ricky nodding towards the bandage.

"Not at the time." Not knowing what to do with himself, Lucas finally just sat down on the empty bed.

"Why'd you do it?" Ricky asked curiously, sitting down cross-legged on his bed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he hurried to add.

"I would have had to talk about it anyway if they'd let me go home." Lucas shrugged. "I was upset and they wouldn't let me talk to the Captain." He looked up at Ricky with pleading eyes suddenly desperate for someone in this place to believe him. "I didn't mean to go so deep. It wasn't supposed to be so bad."

"You thought you'd just do a little bit to hold you off but then the knife kept sliding deeper and deeper and before you knew it there was all this blood and you couldn't make it stop and you were scared," whispered Ricky staring at Lucas's bandage with unfocused eyes.

"How'd you-?" Ricky rolled up his sleeves to reveal a mass of scars running up his arms. Some were thick and white while others had the pink tint of healing flesh. A few still had scabs. Lucas stared at them fascinated. Part of him felt sick at the display. Seeing Ricky's scars brought forth all of the revulsion he felt at his own actions. Part of him felt sad. No one should have to go through something like this. Another part of him felt glad. He wasn't alone. Another terrifying portion of him was almost jealous. His scars were all faded vanishing with time. "Oh," he said after a while. "Is that why they put you here?"

"Nah," replied Ricky letting his sleeve drop. "I checked myself in. I'm not so bad now but I was a real mess a few weeks ago."

"Do you like it here?" Ricky shrugged.

"I'm not likely to kill myself in here but it's not doing much for the self-injury." Lucas caught a glimpse of something silver as Ricky ran a hand lightly under his shirt. He wasn't sure but he thought maybe they had been a row of staples. When he looked up, Ricky was watching him sadly. "They think they've got us protected but they're fighting a lost battle. There are just too many ways for us to hurt ourselves and too many places for us to hide it." Lucas sighed glancing down at the blanket.

"I don't want to be like this," he whispered his voice thick with tears. "I hate it. I hate me. I shouldn't think like this. I shouldn't be like this."

"Have you tried to stop?" Lucas nodded.

"It doesn't work. No matter how long it's been. No matter how long I fight. The urges, the whispers, the wants, they're all going to be right there waiting for me to break down. It always comes back. It never really goes away. And the worst thing is that whenever I feel bad, I know that all I have to do to feel better is to hurt myself. Sometimes I wonder why I ever bother to fight it in the first place. I'm too weak. I'm always going to fail and fuck things up. Why try?" Ricky was silent. For some questions, there were no answers.

Lucas flopped down on the bed rolling so that he could face his roommate. His eyes were drawn to Ricky's midriff. He wished he had the nerve to ask him where the stapler was. Lucas wrapped his arms around himself squeezing tight. He was afraid to open his mouth. He might would be sick or worse. He couldn't believe that he actually wanted to use a stapler on himself. He couldn't believe that he still wanted to do anything to himself. How stupid could he be? How bad was he going to let himself fuck things up? Bridger wouldn't stand by him forever. Hell, if it became a regular thing again, Bridger might be the one to lock him up next time. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn't he be normal?

He rolled over so that his back was to the room then let the tears fall. He wished he'd never started this disgusting little habit. He wished Bridger and Kristin had never found out. He did so much better when no one knew. Sure, it helped to be able to go to them and talk about things instead of cutting. But when he did cut, he knew that he was just disappointing them. He was hurting them every time he screwed up. He never wanted to hurt anyone. 'It would be better to die,' he thought, " than to hurt them.'

Maybe it would be better to die anyway. A lot of times he wished he could. He didn't want to hurt his friends. He didn't want to let them down. So he waited. Maybe one day God would take pity on him and he just wouldn't wake up. Or maybe there would be some kind of horrible accident and that would be the end of Lucas. Maybe one day he would be alone and could do as he wished. Then he wouldn't hurt so much. He wouldn't have to fight through each day struggling to find the energy to keep placing one foot in front of the other. It would be so easy to give up. It would be so nice to be able to rest. Sometimes he was just so tired. He blinked sleepily. It was taking longer and longer for his eyes to open in between blinks.

'I don't want to do this anymore,' thought Lucas terrified of what tomorrow may bring. 'I don't want to be here anymore.' The last of the sedative combined with the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion of the day to drag him down into sleep. As he sank into the welcome oblivion, his last thought was part plea and part prayer. 'Please, God, can't you just let me die?'


	2. part two

"Are you sure you don't need me to come back early?"

"I'm positive. Besides, we may need your testimony and you'd never be able to get here in time." Nathan sat on the couch in front of the vid-screen nursing another cup of coffee. He had been up all night planning his case with Noyce and some UEO lawyers. His eyes felt positively sore and he knew were probably blood shot and bruised.

"You should get some rest," said Kristin gently. "You've got time before the trial."

"I can't. Not while Lucas is locked up in THAT place."

"Well, you're not going to be making a good impression to the judge if you go into the courtroom looking like this. Take a nap, Nathan. I'll call you in an hour. In the mean time, I'll call Noyce again and verify what they'll be needing from me."

"Alright, Kris. You win." Nathan stretched out on the couch and was asleep before the connection finished disconnecting.

Back at the hospital, Lucas was just waking up. A pretty, young nurse came bustling into the room causing him to stretch and begin the groggy process of returning to the living. 

"Well, you must be Lucas," she said as he sat up. He blinked at her sleepily nodding at her. "Here's your medication." She handed him a small cup with a familiar looking pill and a white one that he did not recognize.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"That's just Tylenol. We figured you might need a little pain reliever for your arm. The other one's your Zoloft. We wouldn't want you skipping doses, now would we?"

"Where's mine at, wench?"

"Right here," she said with a smirk dumping the cup of water over Ricky's head.

"Hey! That wasn't nice!"

"You should behave then." She refilled the cup then handed him his medication. "Bye, Ricky. Nice meeting you, Lucas," she said as she walked out of the room.

"Wow, who was that?" asked Lucas staring after her with a slight grin on his face.

"That's Rita. She's one of the new nurses. She's still working on her bedside manner but she sure is nice to look at."

"Are you and her?"

"Don't let her attitude fool you. Rita's real professional. She'd never get involved with one of us. She just knows which ones she can pick on and which ones she can't." Ricky shrugged with a grin. "I'm not complaining. She makes getting out of bed a lot easier." Ricky began getting dressed then noticed Lucas standing there. "Sorry. They brought you some clothes last night but you were already asleep. They're in that first drawer there."

"Thanks." Lucas opened the drawer pulling out an outfit that resembled a set of scrubs. He debated leaving on his current outfit until he noticed the bloodstains. 'These'll do until Bridger brings me something else,' he thought as he hurried to get out of what he was wearing.

"You look better," observed Ricky. Lucas glanced down at his clothes before looking back up at him in confusion. "Not your clothes. You just look better today. More grounded. Last night you looked kinds rough."

"Yesterday was a really bad day," replied Lucas quietly, remembering his thoughts as he had fallen asleep. "Today…today seems a bit more hopeful."

"That's a good thing. You hungry?"

Lucas thought about it for a minute. "Not really."

"Come to breakfast anyway. You're gonna need it when you see the Doc."

"The Doc?" asked Lucas nervously.

"He meets with all of the new patients. He's got to evaluate you to see what your treatment's going to be."

"But I'm not going to be staying here," protested Lucas. "Bridger promised he'd get me out." Ricky just looked at him sadly. "He is!"

"You still need to eat."

"Fine. Let's go get breakfast." Lucas crossed his arms, a bit angry that Ricky did not believe him about the Captain. If Bridger said he was going to get Lucas out of here, then he would get him out of here. Breakfast turned out to be soggy eggs and toast served in what might have been a waiting room had this been a different floor. There weren't many people in the room. For the most part, the hospital was merely a transition point before patients were moved to more permanent locations in the mental health system. Lucas kept his eyes on his plate as he pushed his food around giving the semblance that he had eaten something. He did not want to offend anybody by staring at them. Part of him kept expecting to see crazy people foaming at the mouth or wandering around all zombie-like in straightjackets but his hesitant peeks at the room through his eyelashes revealed only normal looking people. 'You've watched too many movies,' Lucas admonished himself. 'Why should they look any different just because they've got problems? You're here and you don't look nuts.'

"Ricky! I thought you were told you that Lucas was to remain in his room!" A flustered nurse hurried up to their table looking out of breath.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I forgot. We just came to get breakfast." Ricky glanced over at Lucas hiding a small grin. Although Lucas had forgotten, it was apparent that Ricky had not.

"I've been looking for him everywhere!" Mary turned to face Lucas. "Dr. Barringer wants to see you right away. He needs to complete an evaluation of you before your court appearance." Lucas nodded rising from his seat unsteadily. As he prepared to follow the nurse, Ricky touched him hesitantly on the arm.

"Good luck," he whispered squeezing slightly.

"Thanks," smiled Lucas gratefully. He made a mental note to do a search for Ricky once he got back to the SeaQuest. Maybe they could keep in touch. "Bye."

"Doctor, Lucas is here," said the nurse stopping at an office down the hall.

"Send him in," came a deep voice from within the room. Lucas slowly pushed the door open easing his way into the room. The man looked nothing like the doctor from the night before. He was a large man with thick curly black hair and a graying beard. "Have a seat, Lucas. You can call me Barry." Lucas paused for a moment staring at his nameplate. "Yes, my parents named me Barry Barringer. They had a very sick sense of humor." 

           Lucas gave the doctor a wobbly grin as he settled himself into a chair. There was something about this doctor that did not make him feel so intimidated. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"I've just got a few questions for you, Lucas. Please answer them as honestly as you can." Lucas nodded his mouth dry.

"First off, do you remember why you're here?" Lucas nodded.

"I cut myself," he whispered, bowing his head to stare at his bandaged arm in shame. "The lady downstairs…she wouldn't let me go home."

"Do you know why that is?"

Lucas shrugged. "She thought I was a danger to myself or something." He looked up to meet the doctor's eyes. "I'm not."

"Why did you cut yourself Lucas?"

"It hurt," he whispered wrapping his arms around himself. His eyes became unfocused as he stared at the desk. "It hurt so bad. I tried to call Bridger but they wouldn't let me through. I couldn't take it anymore. It kept building and building and I was afraid of what would happen if it got bigger than I could control."

"What could have happened?"

"Do too much damage by accident," he paused, "or on purpose." He shivered. "I couldn't take the risk."

"Does this happen a lot?"

"Which part?"

"All of it. How often is it this bad?"

"Not too often." Lucas closed his eyes in relief. He didn't think he could make it if he had to go through this all the time.

"You said you might do too much damage on purpose. Are times like this the only times you have suicidal urges?" Lucas shook his head. "Do you want to die right now?"

"I don't know. I don't really want to kill myself right now but if someone else came along to do it for me I don't know that I would protest too much." He glanced up at the doctor's expression. When he did not find the disgust that he expected, he continued in a stronger voice. "I'm not going to kill myself. It doesn't matter how much I may want to. I can't. I have too many things keeping me here."

"Would you be willing to sign a contract to that effect?"

"Sure." The doctor scribbled down a note in his chart.

           "Have you ever required stitches before?" he asked with a nod at his wound.

"Once but that was a long time ago back when I was still in college." The doctor glanced up at Lucas in surprise. He grinned at him. "They didn't tell you I'm a genius? I've already got a Masters degree."

"I see. And how often do you hurt yourself?"

"Too often," Lucas replied ruefully. "It's probably not more than five or six times a year now. It's hard sometimes."

"So even though you don't hurt yourself you still get the urge to?" Again Lucas got a far-away look.

"All the time."

"What stops you?"

"Kristin and Bridger help me. They talk me through the rough times and help pick me up when I don't make it all the way through them."

"You aren't seeing anyone else?"

"I, um, I have a psychiatrist. I see him during shore leaves." He shrugged. "I don't know if the medicine's helping any."

"Tell me about Kristin and Bridger." Lucas's eyes lit up. He began to talk animatedly for the first time in the conversation.

"Kristin's great. She's like a mom to me. She's the doctor aboard SeaQuest. Captain Bridger's awesome too. He looks out for me. He always makes sure that I know I can come talk to him at any time."

"It sounds like they're very special to you. What about your parents? Do they serve aboard SeaQuest?"

"No," replied Lucas, losing all of his enthusiasm. "My dad's working on a project in Antarctica. My mom's vacationing somewhere in Europe."

"So you don't live with them. What is your relationship with them like?"

"We don't really have one. I mean, my dad loves me and everything but he's just so busy with everything else that I don't really fit into his life right now."

"And your mother?" Lucas shrugged.

"She isn't really the mothering type. I don't think she's ever known quite what to do with me. She much prefers the company of her consorts." The doctor glanced at the clock.

"Thank you for being so cooperative, Lucas. I believe I have enough information here to make a recommendation. Your Captain Bridger should be here any minute to bring you some clothes for court."

"Why does this have to go to court? Why can't you just tell me I can go home?"

"I'm not affiliated with the hospital. I was brought in to do an impartial evaluation for the courts."

"Oh." Lucas stared down at the ground. He didn't want to go to court. He just wanted to go home. He'd thought that Dr. Barry could let him go home. He bit down on his lip, fighting tears. 

"Don't worry, Lucas," said Dr. Barrister kneeling in front of the boy. "Everything will work out fine." Lucas nodded dejectedly following the arriving nurse out the door. It just wasn't fair. He bit harder drawing the salty taste of blood.

"Here you are," said the nurse, leaving Lucas outside yet another closed door. "Good luck," he said, giving Lucas a pat on the shoulder. Numbly, Lucas pushed the door open and laboriously forced his leaden feet to move. In side, Bridger was pacing anxiously.

"Lucas! Are you all right? Did they treat you well?" Bridger was immediately by his side. Lucas began to tremble as Bridger's arms folded him into their safety.

"I'm so scared," he whispered.

"I know. I know but we'll talk to the judge. You just have to trust that he'll make the right decision."

"What if the right decision is to lock me up?" asked Lucas looking up at Bridger with tear filled eyes. "Look what I did. What if- what if I'm not s-safe enough to take care of myself?" Lucas broke down into sobs clinging to Bridger.

"You're doing good, Lucas. This was just an unfortunate set back. You're getting better."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I messed up. I'm sorry I caused so much trouble. I don't know why you put up with me."

"Because I love you. We all love you, kiddo, and we'll do anything it takes to see you get better. We just want to see you happy."

"I don't know how happy feels anymore."

"I know and it breaks my heart but one day you'll know what it's like to be happy again."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now let's get you ready for court." Lucas went through the motions of getting dressed allowing Bridger to guide his movements. He felt numb again. Distant. In a way, he welcomed the feeling because it protected him. It made it seem like everything that was going on was happening to someone else and he could deal with that better than having everything happening to him. At the same time, it was kind of scary. He felt like he could drift off at any minute. As long as he didn't fight it, it wasn't so bad but when he tried to keep himself from floating off it seemed like he just got farther away.

He realized he had missed something during his reverie. "What did you say?" His voice sounded tiny.

"It's time to go." Bridger watched Lucas worriedly. It hurt every time he saw him like this. He just wanted to wrap him up and make everything all better but there wasn't any magical answer for something like this. Lucas stayed stiffly by Bridger's side as they slowly filed into the hospital transport for the ride to the courthouse. He barely nodded at their lawyer as they took a seat to wait for the judge. Lucas felt like he was in some kind of movie as he stood up for the judge to enter the courtroom. This couldn't be real.

"You must be Lucas," said the judge with a friendly smile. He nodded wondering why everyone around him seemed to know his name. "Well, this isn't going to be anything like you see on TV so don't be frightened. Now, I've read the files but I would like each of you to explain why exactly I am here on my day off."

"The child was brought to Richland Hospital last night with a self-inflicted incision to his forearm. The psychologist on duty evaluated him and recommended that he be admitted for treatment. The child's guardian protested and he was made a ward of the hospital until this hearing could be arranged this morning."

"I see." The judge turned her gaze on the UEO lawyer.

"My client was involuntarily admitted to the psychiatric ward without due cause. He had a firm grip on reality. He was not a danger to himself or others. There was no reason for him to have had to stay there."

"Wouldn't you say the injury to his arm was proof that he was a danger to himself?" argued the hospital's lawyer..

"Absolutely not. Mr. Wolenczak has a history of self-mutilation but he is not a danger to himself. The cut alone does not warrant hospitalization."

"Allowing the child to go without proper psychological treatment is criminal. He needs help," protested the hospital's lawyer.

"Mr. Wolenczak is receiving treatment. He has an excellent support group aboard SeaQuest."

"Then why was he in the emergency room last night?"

"Enough!" barked the judge. She watched Lucas for a moment. "I'd like to hear the child's point of view." Lucas kept his eyes on the ground as he was led up to the stand. "Lucas, could you tell me everything that happened yesterday that led up to you being brought into the emergency room?"

"Yes, ma'am." He swallowed quickly then began a soft, emotionless rendition of the previous days events. "I started out in a bad mood. Bridger got called back to a meeting ending our vacation early. He promised we'd go to some amusement parks instead but I was still disappointed. He was in meetings all day so I was left pretty much to myself. I didn't really mind. I got some great code written. When I went to lunch, I overheard some guys talking about me. They were calling me stuff like SeaQuest's charity case. I know it's not true but it still gets to you, you know? I started feeling worse then but I probably would have been fine except my mother called. There are a lot of issues between us. A phone call from her can ruin even the best of days. It was like a black cloud covered everything when she told me not to plan on coming home for Thanksgiving."

"I tried to call Bridger then. I was kind of upset. But the secretary refused to let me through. I tried to find somewhere safe but I kept finding potential instruments in every room. I was afraid to pick one up because I'd be more likely to use it on myself than to move it out of my sight. Each time I tried to call Bridger I became more and more desperate until I couldn't take it anymore. Almost immediately afterwards I panicked and called him again. This time they delivered the message. He came home and bandaged me up and took me to the hospital."

"And you've attempted suicide before?"

"No!" exclaimed Lucas. "I've never tried to kill myself."

"Ma'am," began the UEO lawyer. "Self-mutilation is a coping mechanism. They respond to unpleasant psychological stimulation by inflicting damage on themselves. In Mr. Wolenczak's case, the damage is almost always minor."

"This doesn't look minor," replied the judge glancing down at a picture of the gaping wound prior to being treated.

"Mr. Wolenczak's physician is prepared to testify to the nature of his wounds."

"I'd like to hear her testimony. Lucas, you may return to your seat." Lucas returned to his seat ignoring the proceedings of the courtroom. Bridger gave his hand a slight squeeze as he slid down in beside him.

"She obviously has no experience with this kind of case," whispered the lawyer. "We have grounds for an appeal if the decision should go against us."

"Well, let's hope we don't have to use the appeal," muttered Bridger while they waited for a vid-screen to be called in for Kristin's testimony.

"Dr. Westphalen, could you state your name and your relationship to Mr. Wolenczak," ordered the lawyer.

"I am Dr. Kristin Westphalen. I am the primary doctor on SeaQuest where Lucas lives. He's also a colleague and a friend of mine."

"Have you treated Mr. Wolenczak for self-inflicted injuries during your time on SeaQuest?"

"Yes, I have. On five separate occasions."

"And can you describe these injuries?"

"All five were small cuts approximately three to five cm in length, superficial in nature, and found on either his arms or his legs."

"Did these injuries need professional medical attention?"

"No, sir. Lucas could have easily taken care of them himself. It was part of our agreement that he let me treat any cuts he may happen to make."

"Can you tell us about this agreement?" asked the judge with interest.

"Yes, ma'am. After we learned of Lucas's problem with self-injury, it quickly became apparent that sending him off of SeaQuest was not an option nor was bringing a psychologist to him. We were able to get him evaluated by a psychiatrist who's been treating him for about six months now. With his help, we've come up with a process that we hope will teach Lucas less destructive coping mechanisms. We haven't asked Lucas not to cut but we do ask that he comes and talks with us first. Most of the time, talking takes care of the problem. Sometimes talking wasn't enough."

"And what do you do when he does hurt himself?" asked the hospital lawyer.

"I treat his injury then we talk about why he did it," she said looking at the man as though he were an idiot. What else did they expect her to do when he cut?

"So you reward him with attention?"

"No, we address the problem."

"If you've been addressing the problem, Dr. Westphalen, why are we here today?"

"Your honor!" protested Lucas's lawyer.

"That's enough," admonished the judge with a glare. "Thank you for your time, Doctor," she continued.

"May I make one more statement before I go?" asked Kristin. The judge nodded. "I know you're going to make a decision based on what you think is right for Lucas but regardless of your opinion on him staying on SeaQuest, placing him in an institution against his will isn't going to help him. The statistics are clear that hospitalization does not necessarily help self-injurers. In many cases, it makes matters worse."

"I'll keep that in mind," promised the judge. "I believe I have heard enough testimony. Let's take a lunch break while I look over the testimony and the recommendations from Dr. Barrister one more time before making my decision."

"Is that good news or bad news?" asked Bridger as they filed out of the courtroom. Lucas remained silent by his side.

"I think we made a good impression on her. The hospital doesn't seem to be making much of a case."

"Why should they?" mumbled Lucas. "It's not like they care about me." He pulled sullenly at the collar of his shirt wishing he could change out of the suit. They walked across the street to a small café.

"What would you like to eat?" Lucas glanced through the menu on the table. "Never mind. We'll have three of the day's special," said the lawyer as the waitress came to take their order. 

           Lucas picked at his food while Bridger and the lawyer discussed the case. Nothing made him feel more invisible than when people talked about him like he wasn't even there. Sighing, he excused himself from the table. He hurried into the restroom and leaned against the stall closing his eyes. He couldn't do this. 'I can't,' he thought. 'I can't. You have to.' Tears of self-pity leaked from his eyes. How pathetic. Like he hadn't done enough crying the past two days. Stop being so stupid. Snap out of it. When the tears eventually stopped, he quickly washed his face to remove the evidence. He slid back into his seat at the table without the other two even giving him a glance.

"We should be heading back over to the courthouse," said the lawyer checking his watch. He paid the bill and they walked back in silence. Lucas looked around him making sure to take everything in. He knew that this might be the last time he saw the outside world for quite some time. If the prerequisite for being discharged from a mental institution was being cured, he wasn't sure he would ever get out again. He didn't think there was a cure for someone like him. He wished for the numbness to return as he stood trembling while the judge entered the courtroom. Suddenly his world hung precariously on her every word. Reality was looming over him in a terrifying rush of stark clarity. This was it.

"I've made my decision," she started without preamble. "While I believe that the hospital made a justified decision in keeping the child overnight, I do not feel that he needs to be admitted for more long-term care." She glared at the hospital's lawyer daring him to protest. Lucas sagged against Bridger in relief. They weren't going to lock him up. He was safe.

"I do have a few conditions," continued the judge, "in accordance with Dr. Barrister's recommendations. The child is to continue receiving treatment from his psychiatrist. He is also to begin treatment with a psychologist. Due to the unusual circumstances, you may wish to choose one that specializes in sessions through teleconferencing."

"We can do that," replied the lawyer.

"Lastly, Lucas, I would like you to promise me that you will not do anything to harm yourself in the future."

"I can't do that," he replied hanging his head. He blew it. She was going to change her mind and send him back to the hospital. Why did she have to ask something like that? Why couldn't they understand that it wasn't that simple? The judge was silent for a moment watching him. Maybe she just didn't want to see him committed or maybe she realized that she had asked the wrong thing.

"Can you at least promise you'll try not to?" she asked finally. He was silent for a moment.

"Yeah, I can promise that." She smiled at him kindly.

"Good." As they left the courtroom for the last time, Lucas's burst of jubilation slowly faded into fatigue. It had been a rough two days. He felt as though he could sleep for a month.

"Are you going out to celebrate?" asked the lawyer shaking Bridger's hand.

"No, I think we're just going to go back to the hotel room," replied Bridger watching Lucas stifle a yawn.

"Well, sir, its been an honor meeting you. I'm just glad everything worked out well." Bridger pulled Lucas close thinking of all he almost lost. Lucas snuggled against Bridger inside the cab. Safe. Warm. Good. Surrounded by a soft bubble of content, Lucas drifted off to sleep. 

Hours later, Nathan was sitting watching Lucas sleep when he heard a soft knock on the door. He wanted to ignore it. He didn't want to leave Lucas's side. He looked so fragile and innocent lying there asleep. When the knock came again, he forced himself up.

"Hey," said Kristin smiling softly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked shocked. "You're supposed to be in England visiting your mother."

"She understands. You need me here."

"But how?"

"I left as soon as you went to sleep this morning. I did the conference from the shuttle."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know," she smiled at him softly, letting a hand caress his cheek. "I wanted to. How's Lucas?"

"He's been sleeping since we left the courthouse." Nathan couldn't keep the note of worry out of his voice.

"It's to be expected. He's had a rough time." She moved to stand so that she could look down at Lucas.

"I know." Nathan wrapped his arms around her burying his face in her hair. "Kris, we almost lost him."

"But we didn't." She turned around to face the pain in his tear-filled eyes. "We didn't lose him. He's going to be OK. We're going to get through this. We just have to take it one day at a time."

"One day at a time." Together they turned drawing strength from each other and the beautiful vision of Lucas sleeping peacefully.

The End

Author's Notes: While this story was not based on actually events, many of the instances brought up are very real. A trip to the doctor can be a very scary thing to someone living with self-injury. The person may encounter people who do not have any experience coping with a patient that hurts themselves. It can be frustrating for the doctors and some may take it out on the patient by refusing to numb the wound before stitch or being unnecessarily rough or even refusing to treat the injury at all. People have been committed against their will because the evaluating psychologist did not know enough about self-injury to judge whether the patient was a danger to themselves. 

In an effort to protect the self-injurer against instances such as these, the Self-Injurer's Bill of Rights was created. I ask everyone to please read the Bill of Rights ; The more awareness we can bring to the problem, the more chances we have of doing something to stop it. If you ever have to go to the ER/ A&E for a self-inflicted injury, take a print out of the Bill of Rights. It may help. You might also want to visit ; It's another helpful site about what to expect if you have to go to the emergency room.


End file.
